Roles
by Keesha
Summary: Set after S1EP10. Since I had to wait two long weeks for EP11, I decided to write my version of what might happen to keep myself amused. Things come to a head with Charlie, Jangles and Paul.
1. Chapter 1

Usual Disclaimer. Don't own. No disrespect intended. Just having some fun. And of course love reviews.

"Hey JT," Briggs called out as he entered the kitchen and snagged a coffee mug off the counter.

"Brah," came the reply around a mouthful of cereal and fruit.

Removing the coffee pot from the machine, Briggs filled his mug then settled on one of the kitchen stools. Taking a swig, he grimaced. "Who made the coffee?"

Noting Briggs' facial expression he said, "Charlie. But she seemed in kind of a hurry so..."

After taking another sip, Paul put the mug on the bar and pushed it aside. "Hurry huh. Hurry where?"

Johnny shrugged. "No clue and I wasn't asking. Last time I nearly got my head ripped off by Charlie and Jakes."

"For asking where she was going?" Briggs questioned rubbing his hand over his stubbly chin.

"Ah huh. I may look stupid but I'm not."

"No you are not. Seems like Charlie has been disappearing a lot these days," Briggs commented nonchalantly picking up a banana and peeling back the skin.

Johnny put his spoon down and leaned forward. "That's what I thought too. But when I asked her," he waved his hands thru the air, "Phew. Major stonewall. Then Jakes backs her up like totally."

"Mmm. Think he knows what is going on?"

"Nah. You know him. He just likes to be on the opposing side of everything."

Briggs took a bite of the banana and chewed it slowly while thinking. "So she just lit out of here this morning. After I told her last night I'd help her with Odin. Strange man."

Johnny shrugged again as he got up and put his empty bowl in the sink. "Unless you got a tracking device on her you are SOL."

Briggs rose from his stool and headed out of the kitchen, tossing the banana peel in the trash as he passed. "Thanks John-Boy."

"Later dude," Johnny called after him.

Briggs returned to his room, walked over to his computer and flipped open the lid. Johnny had no clue how on the money he was about tracking Charlie. The other day, after Johnny had told him about Charlie's suspicions regarding him and Odin, Briggs had 'borrowed' her phone and turned on the GPS tracker.

As he called up the tracking app on his laptop, he wondered if she had discovered and disabled it. However, a blinking dot showed up on his screen after a few minutes confirming it was still working. The dot was stationary so he zoomed down on the area to get the street name then switched to satellite view to take an actual look at the location as he was not familiar with the neighborhood. It appeared to be a somewhat remote motel; a place where a person stayed when they didn't want anyone else to know they were in town. Did Charlie have a new CI? Is that why she was out at the remote locale? Closing the lid on his laptop, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door to visit Charlie's little rendezvous spot and take a look around.

GRACELAND

Early afternoon found Charlie and Rafael sitting in the small restaurant attached to the motel sipping 'laced' coffee. As one would expect given its location adjacent to the somewhat seedy motel, the place was more a bar than restaurant and not particularly nice.

"Guess the Federale doesn't pay any better than the FBI," Charlie joked referring to the less than stellar locale.

"There are no bedbugs and everyone minds their own business which makes it better than some of the places I have stayed." Rafael raised his cup. "But at least the coffee is good when properly adjusted with sugar and," he tapped his pocket flask, "cream."

"Salute to 'cream'," Charlie said also raising her coffee cup.

Rafael took a sip of his doctored coffee before setting it on the none-too-clean table. "So have you made any more progress on finding Odin?"

Charlie related the story of Mike and Bello at the prison. "It had to be Odin that leaked the visit," she concluded.

"The phone records, no luck?"

Charlie ran a hand thru her long dark hair. "I figure the call had to come in after I made my appointment but before the next morning; there are a lot of calls in that period."

Rafael picked up his mug and took another sip. "What I can't figure out is how Odin would know you made the appointment to go see Mike. A leak… in the prison?"

"Yeah maybe," Charlie said vaguely.

Rafael stared at her intently. "But you do not think that hmm. You still think it is a rogue FBI agent?"

"Yeah I do."

"And are you any closer to having a name?"

Charlie paused, then sighed looking away.

"You do have a name," Rafael pushed gently.

"Let's just say I have a suspicion."

Briggs held his breath, struggling to hear as he slowly stocked the mini-fridges under the bar with beer. He had bribed the normal delivery man to let him make this distribution by spinning him a tail of a cheating girlfriend he wanted to spy on followed by a hefty cash bribe. The guy had been perfectly willing to let Paul stock the bar while he took a quick nap in the beer truck. The owner of the bar had been an easy sell too being satisfied with the story that Briggs was going to be taking over the route and this was a training run.

Getting in the bar had also been a breeze, Briggs had kept his head low, hat jammed over his forehead and used the box laden hand-truck as a shield to get into position; then it had just been a matter of keeping out of sight behind the bar and slowly stocking the merchandise while eavesdropping.

"But you do not want to share," Rafael said sadly. "I thought we were on the same team, at least when it came to catching Odin and Jangles."

"We are, but if Odin is one of our own..."

"You want to handle it internally. Understandable. So I will have to figure this out for myself."

"You did pretty well on the Bello arrest. And I never said it was a him ya know."

Rafael smiled. "You can't fault me for trying," he said with an apologetic grin.

"I suppose not. And to show there are no hard feelings I do think it is a guy," she returned with a slow smile of her own. "Actually, I always have thought as Odin as a guy. I can't see Bello getting in that deep with a woman, no disrespect to my gender."

"I do agree."

"I'll be right back. Have to hit the little girls' room," Charlie said sliding out of the booth and heading towards the back of the bar.

When Briggs was sure she was out of sight, he maneuvered to get a better look at the man in the booth. With Charlie temporarily gone, he felt it was worth the risk. He rose just in time to see the man at the table slip something into Charlie's remaining coffee.

Briggs could not let Charlie drink that coffee. Praying Charlie took her time in the ladies room, he grabbed a bottle of beer, strolled out from behind the bar and over to the table.

"Excuse me but my distributor is thinking about offering this new brand of beer for sale and I wondered if you would be interested in trying it and telling me if you'd buy it." Briggs reached over the table to hand the bottle to Rafael and 'accidentally' knocked over Charlie's coffee mug spilling the drugged contents all over the table.

Rafael jumped to his feet cursing in Spanish, as the coffee ran across the table and onto his pants. Angry, he took a good look at the idiot who had knocked over the coffee. He was surprised when he saw the man's face and had to quickly school his expression to one of neutrality. He could not believe it; the FBI agent he had tortured and addicted to heroin a few years ago was standing here in front of him with a stupid story about beer. He must have been spying on him and Charlie, had seen what he'd done to Charlie's coffee and been forced out of hiding to do something. Rafael also concluded the agent did not recognize him so he acted rapidly, pulling out his gun and ramming it into Paul's side. "Let's take this quietly outside shall we," he hissed in Briggs ear.

Paul was confused by the turn of events but he obeyed especially since there was a loaded gun being held against his body. He slowly moved towards the door and exited the building. Once outside, Rafael motioned him towards a sedan in the parking lot and the two men walked until they were standing behind the car's trunk. At that point Rafael told his captive to place his hands on the trunk. He patted down his prisoner, removed Briggs' gun and took it in his left hand; now he was dually armed.

Charlie returned from the ladies room to discover the spilled coffee on the table and no sign of Rafael. She figured he must have gotten coffee on him and went to the men's room to clean up. She looked around for a waiter to clean swipe down the table. Her eyes glanced out the front window of the restaurant and she spotted Rafael outside, behind a car, with another man. She silently walked towards the door to get a better view. She could not id the second man since his back was to her so she decided to go outside and see what was going on. The door creaked when she opened it and Rafael momentarily looked in her direction.

"Don't move. Don't turn around or you die," he whispered to Paul. "This man," he addressed Charlie as she walked toward him, "I think he is who we have been looking for."

A look of confusion crossed Charlie's face as she moved closer to the two men. "Odin or Jangles?"

"Odin. I think he has been stalking us even as we stalk him."

Charlie was nearly abreast of the men when Rafael suddenly raised the second gun and pointed it directly at Charlie chest. "Stop right there. I suggest you do as I say because I am an equally good shot with either hand."

Charlie halted and stood very still. Paul didn't move a muscle either; he couldn't take a chance on getting Charlie shot.

"Agent DeMarco. Please place your weapon slowly on the ground."

After Charlie did as instructed, Rafael took a quick step and kicked the gun across the parking lot. Gesturing to Paul he commanded, "Slowly. On the ground. Face first." Paul dropped to his knees then lay down. Charlie still could not see the face of the second man.

"Agent DeMarco. On your knees."

Charlie did as requested, sinking to her knees.

Rafael placed the gun, from his left hand, in his pocket and using his now free hand opened the trunk of the sedan. Rafael reached into the trunk and pulled out two sets of older style metal handcuffs. "Stand," he commanded Charlie. When she was back on her feet, Rafael tossed her a set of handcuffs which she neatly caught.

"Secure his hands behind his back, tightly."

She crouched down and did as directed; the man on the ground cooperated by moving his hands into the correct position for her to cuff. When she was done she stood up, moved off to one side and waited, glaring at Rafael.

"Slowly, on your knees," Rafael commanded Paul. Once the agent was in the requested position, Rafael struck him in the side of the head causing Paul to crumble, unconscious, to the ground. He landed sideways when he fell and Charlie was finally able to see his face. She swallowed her reaction and kept a straight face but Rafael wasn't fooled.

"Please Agent DeMarco. There is no need to pretend. I know he is a federal agent and I bet you know him too."

Charlie remained silent.

"Could this perhaps be who you thought is Odin?" He paused but Charlie stayed silent. "Nothing to say. No matter. Perhaps I know more about this man then you do. But now is not the time or place to swap tales." He gestured with his gun. "The rules remain the same. You cooperate and maybe you both live."

Charlie said nothing and continued to glower at Rafael.

"Turn around and put your hands behind your back."

With defiance radiating from every pore in her being, Charlie did as told and Rafael secured her hands with the handcuffs.

"Move. By the trunk," he ordered gesturing with the gun. Charlie walked over to the open trunk. "Climb in." It was a bit awkward with her hands behind her back but Charlie got in and lay on her side.

Rafael reached in and removed a duffle bag. Keeping the gun trained her he rummaged in the bag and pulled out a couple of loaded syringes. Charlie had no idea what was in them but she knew it could not be good. Rafael reached in and jabbed her in the neck with the needle. "You bastard," was all she got out before the lights went out.

"Perhaps I am," Rafael said philosophically as he walked over to where Paul lay on the ground. "My mother never really said." He injected the second needle into the unconscious agent to ensure he stayed that way for the ride.

Holstering his gun now that his captives were incapacitated, Rafael was able to pick up Briggs and sling in him the trunk along side of Charlie. American cars had such spacious trunks, he mused as he slammed it closed. Scanning the parking lot he was pleased to see no one had witnessed this little episode. He climbed behind the wheel and drove away towards Tecates, Mexico. He knew as a police man he could cross the border with no fuss. He was very pleased with how this had turned out and he bet Caza would be too.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning found Rafael, two of his associates and the two unconscious agents in a very small remote cabin outside of Tecates, Mexico. Rafael decided he wanted to talk to his ex-captive alone first so when Charlie started to come around, he used a second needle on her to put her back under.

Paul's head was throbbing like someone was using it to perform a drum solo for a rock band. Regrettably, because he would have preferred to sink back into oblivion, he slowly opened his eyes. It took a moment for his surroundings to register and when they did, he felt like he was in a time warp. He was tied to a chair in a room that had seen better days with a man intently watching him.

"Do I need to re-introduce myself? I do not have all my usual items with me such as my mask and keys."

"Jangles," Paul spit out with disdain.

"Now you remember me. You FBI do like your nicknames. My real name is Rafael Cortes which I do not mind telling you because this time I am going to kill you. In hindsight, I should have done that the last time as our paths crossed. It would seem leaving you alive did not work out so well."

"Lose your keys?" Paul mocked.

"Ah yes the keys. Effective no? The sound of clinking keys causing so much terror. But you my friend already know what I can do," he said placing a knife on the scarred wooden table in the center of the room. "You have seen many examples of my work." Hefting the blade, he examined its honed edge in front of Paul's face. "So you are still working for the FBI? You kept your heroin addiction a secret?" he asked as he lazily drew the knife across Paul's chest, slicing thru his shirt, scoring the skin and causing blood to well up.

Paul spat in the man's face which earned him a vicious slice across his right bicep.

Placing the tip of the knife blade under Briggs chin, Rafael forced him to raise his head and look him in the eye. "Are we done being stupid?"

Paul decided if he wanted to live long enough to make sure Charlie escaped, he'd better play along. He shifted his gaze away and Rafael took that as an affirmative answer and lowered the knife. "My question?"

"I kept my addiction a secret from the agency, everyone. Kicked the dragon on my own."

"Hmmm. But you know you can't… really; maybe tame it but the craving is always there… lurking… waiting to pounce."

Paul looked up at Rafael, his eyes confirming the accuracy of the statement.

"If I were to offer you a hit now, would you be able to resist?" Rafael asked reaching into his pocket. "It would take away all the pain. Make you feel so good," he said seductively. He kept his hand teasingly in his pocket. "Or maybe, I give it to Charlie. Let her fly high."

Charlie was tied to a chair which was back to back with his own. Paul felt a slight tightening of the ropes binding them and he realized she was awake but playing possum. "I got a better idea. Let her go. She's not part of this. This is between you and I. Always has been."

"I admit, you and I go back further, but Charlie, there is a smart and beautiful woman. Too smart to let go I am afraid." Rafael took a quick look at his watch then headed towards the lone door in the room. "I'll be back shortly. By then Agent DeMarco should be awake and we can continue this discussion." He left the room closing the door decisively behind him.

"Nice try Paul," Charlie muttered after Rafael had left the room.

Paul shrugged as best as he could in his tied up position. "Hey I tried," he answered glibly. "Can you reach the back right pocket of my jeans?" He felt her finger tips brush lightly over his pants.

"Yeah, I can. Wanna give me a hint why?"

"There is a bobby pin in my pocket. Can you reach it?"

Charlie leaned back in her chair working to close the gap between them while her fingers scrambled to get into his pocket. She finally felt the bobby pin and desperately tried to remove it from Paul's pocket.

"What are you doing back there Chuck?" he inquired as her fingers dug into his flesh.

"Your frickin jeans are too tight and the damn blood dripping down your arm is making everything slippery."

"Don't drop it whatever you do."

"And what are you going to do with it?" she asked as she finally pulled it out of his pocket.

"I'm going to use it to pick the lock. Put it in my left hand."

She carefully placed the bobby pin in Paul's grasp. "Seriously? You can do that?"

Paul methodically started working on the lock. "That is the same thing I said to Johnny. We were watching this cop show and the guy got out of a set of cuffs with a bobby pin."

"We're his hands behind his back?"

"Yeah," Paul said as he continued to work on the lock. "I said to Johnny no way that would work but we did a little research anyway."

"Research."

"Mmm. Had the cuffs, got a pack of bobby pins and had at it. We started out opening them flat on a table in front of us."

"And behind the back?"

"Took some time but we finally got there too. What do you know about Rafael Charlie?" Charlie filled him in while he continued to work on the lock. After a few minutes he triumphantly separated his hands, the cuffs dangling from one wrist only.

"Way to go Paul." But their celebrations were cut short when they heard the door creak open. Paul quickly replaced his hands behind his back so it looked like he was still secured.

Rafael confidently strolled into the room then circled them. "Ah, you have joined us I see."

"#uck you," Charlie replied.

Rafael chuckled as turned to face Paul. "I told you she was spirited."

"I'm gonna kick your dirty lying ass."

Rafael shrugged. "I don't think so given your current situation. But I do like your fire." He sauntered back over the table and picked up the knife he had left there. "So where were we? Ah yes," he said suddenly closing the gap between them and drawing the knife down Paul's chest again adding a new slice. "I was getting ready to ask you what the FBI has on Caza. Any more embedded agents?" he asked as he moved the knife downward again causing another slice.

Paul swung his arms out from behind his back and whipped the handcuffs into the side of Rafael's head as hard as possible. The hit was fairly substantial and Rafael collapsed, dazed, on the floor. Paul knew Rafael wouldn't be down for long so he quickly went to work getting out of the ropes that secured him. As soon as the ropes slithered to the floor, Paul sprang up leaving Charlie to work her own way out of the ropes.

Paul scanned the floor looking for the knife that Rafael had been holding when but he could not spot it. Suddenly, he knew exactly where the knife was when Rafael sprang from the floor wielding it. Paul jumped back, tripping over the ropes on the floor and falling.

Charlie, who had worked free of her ropes but still had her hands cuffed, leapt from her chair and threw herself into Rafael's side, knocking him off balance. All three of them end up in a heap on the floor, Paul on the bottom, Rafael and finally Charlie on top. If it hadn't been for Charlie, Rafael's knife thrust would have ended Paul's life but she deflected it and instead it ended up a stab to Paul's shoulder rather than his heart. Charlie quickly rolled off to one side while Paul used his good arm to knock the knife out of Rafael's hand before he could strike again. The two men started trading blows.

Off to the side, Charlie used her flexibility to roll up on her back, shimmy her handcuffed hands over her butt and eventually slide her legs out so her hands were now cuffed in front of her body. Paul and Rafael were still wrestling on the floor so Charlie's scanned the room for the missing knife. She spotted it near where the guys were and started towards it.

Rafael, who saw her movement out of the corner of his eye, left off his attack on Paul and went for her instead. He knocked her to the ground and quickly secured one of his muscular arms around her neck. Climbing to his feet and dragging her along with him, Rafael spun towards Paul using Charlie as a shield.

In the brief second when Rafael was distracted, Paul had spotted the knife, grabbed it and tucked it in the back of his waistband before turning towards where Rafael and Charlie were standing.

"Any closer and I break her neck," Rafael warned Paul who stayed still and held his hands in front of him.

"Let her go Rafael. It's me you want not her," Paul tried again in vain.

Charlie knew Rafael was not going to let her go so she had to try to get herself free; if she was going to die, she would rather go out with a fight. She stepped back with the heel of her boot and raked it down Rafael's ankle and into his instep. He marginally loosened his hold on her neck because of the pain in his foot and she used that opportunity to ram her elbow into his rib cage numerous times. His hold on her neck loosened even more and she made her final move which was a kick to the groin as she twisted out of his grip. Breaking free, she lost her balance and fell to the floor where she scrambled away from Rafael.

As soon as she was free, Paul whipped the knife from his belt and used another skill he had perfected years ago, knife throwing. Again, it had started out as a dare but Paul had found he was good at it, like darts, and had practiced until he had it mastered. He flung the knife at Rafael's torso, embedding it in his nemesis' heart.

"Son of a bitch," Rafael cried out as he collapsed to his knees with the knife sticking out of his chest. Rafael moved his hands towards his stomach as if to clutch it in pain then suddenly drew forth a gun much to the surprise of both agents.

Paul saw Rafael pull out the gun and aim it at Charlie. Screaming "no" he launched himself towards Rafael knocking the man to the ground but not before the gun went off. What would have been a kill shot was slightly deflected by Paul's attack and the bullet hit Charlie in the side of the head instead of the middle of the forehead. She instantly collapsed to the ground.

Paul knocked the gun from Rafael's hand, grabbed the knife in his chest, pulled it loose and proceeded to stab the man repeatedly in the chest. After the fourth stab his rational mind finally took over and he stopped, lowering the knife. There was no need for anything more; Rafael was dead.

Paul moved over to Charlie running his hand over her unconscious face. She was still breathing which was a good sign. Still it was a very serious wound, she was losing a lot of blood and she needed immediate medical attention.

The rattling door knob alerted Paul that someone was trying to enter the room. He tucked the knife back in his waistband, scanned and located Rafael's gun and moved swiftly grabbing it off the floor and training it on the door.

Paul saw the man's gun first and didn't hesitate; his bullet ripped thru the man before he fully entered the room. The guy behind him hastily retreated and Paul's second shot missed him. Less than a minute later Paul heard an engine start and tires squeal as the third man drove off in a hurry.

After silence had reined for a few minutes, Paul cautiously opened the door and scanned the outer room, which was empty. The room contained a few pieces of old furniture and a door that lead to the outside. Still keeping the gun ready, Paul stepped outside to survey the surroundings. Nothing but desert around the small cabin. The vehicle that was left behind had four slashed tires; it wasn't going anywhere.

Walking back inside, he went over to the guy he shot and searched him discovering a cell phone. His elation quickly vanished when he found the phone was password protected. Paul hesitated for a moment; the only thing he could with the phone was make a 911 call which meant this place would soon be swarming with local Mexican law enforcement. Paul couldn't help wondering how this was going to look to them; he was in Mexico illegally; his fingerprints were on the knife and the gun used to kill the two people on the floor; and the only two people that could collaborate his story were unconscious and gone. There was no if ands or buts about it, he was screwed. However, if he did not make the call, Charlie would most certainly die so his decision was a no brainer. He picked up the phone, checked for bars and dialed; the call went thru.

"What is your emergency?" asked the voice on the other end of the line.

"There are two dead men and a critically injured woman at my location. I need medical assistance immediately," Paul replied.

"Where are you?" the disembodied voice asked.

Paul was floored. He had no idea where he was and walking outside didn't help; he still only saw a dirt track leading into the desert. "I haven't clue. You'll have to track this call."

"Hold please."

"Yeah, like what else am I going to do," he grumbled staring around at the bleak landscape. After what seemed like an eternity a new voice, this time male, came on the line.

"What is your name?" the gruff voice demanded.

Paul ignored the question. "Do you have my location? Are you sending help?"

"Si. Help is on the way. I need you to answer a few questions for me. What is your name?" but by then, Paul had hung up. "Ask your damn questions when you get here," he muttered as he headed back inside to check on Charlie. There was no change. Paul scooped her up gently, ignoring the pain in his arm chest and shoulder and carried her outside to the front of the house where he softly placed her down in the shade. Paul lowered himself to the ground next to her, leaned against the house and cradled her head in his lap.

Tears silently slid down his face; he did this to her with his secret vendetta against Jangles; he'd never forgive himself if she died. If only he had told her the truth, she would have never gone searching for the mysterious Odin Rosse, used cocaine, lost her CI or gotten tangled up with Jangles. His stupid decisions in the past had led to the death of his one and only love, Lisa, and today he was still hurting the people he loved with his lies. When had his life gone so wrong?

GRACELAND

It was a circus, like Paul knew it would be, when two police vehicles pulled up to the house, sirens blaring and lights flashing. The policemen jumped out of their cruisers and aimed their guns at him shouting for him to show his hands. Paul tenderly laid Charlie's head on the ground and held his hands aloft. They instructed him to stand, turn, and face the wall, all of which he did slowly and carefully so as to cause no alarm. While three of the four men kept their guns trained on him, the fourth came over and roughly frisked him removing the gun and knife from the waistband of his jeans where he had tucked them in case someone besides the police had showed up. It really didn't matter where they found the weapons since his fingerprints were all over them anyway; after all he did use both of them to kill the men inside. Both items were bagged while Paul was secured in handcuffs, zip tie style so no escaping this time.

A few minutes later, an ambulance pulled up and the attendants got out and saw to Charlie. Paul tried to move towards them but was stopped by the policeman who shoved him into the back of the police cruiser and slammed the door in his face.

By this time the policemen that had gone into house came outside talking excitedly and gesturing. Based on the glares in his direction, Paul decided they must know that one of the dead men was a cop. Paul put his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. He was so screwed but at least Charlie was safe and that was all that mattered.

Eventually, two of the policemen climbed into the front seat of the cruiser he was in and drove away into the lengthening darkness. Paul tried to ask where they were taking Charlie but they ignored his questions so he gave up and sat quietly. Listening to the chatter on the police radio, he heard about two policemen that were shot by an American. The second man he'd shot was police too? How far did this corruption go?

They pulled up at what Paul assumed must be the local police station; it looked like some kind of bad prop from an old western movie. He was none-too-gently dragged inside past some ancient wooden desks, down a flight of stairs and heaved into a dark, dank cell. They removed his handcuffs before shutting the door. After testing the door to ensure it was properly latched, the two policemen ascended the stairs and disappeared from view leaving him alone.

Paul looked around his accommodations at the sagging single bunk and stained sink and toilet in the corner. There was no natural light and the only illumination was from a few overhead bulbs that gave off an annoying hum. It was probably a good thing the light was so dim, Paul thought as he looked around him at his surroundings; there was nothing down here he wanted to see to closely.

He walked over and gingerly sat down on the bed and while it squealed and groaned it did not collapse under his weight. He had no clue what was going on here. No one had asked him anything to include his name. There was nothing he could do other than wait to see what happened next. Even though he was exhausted and his body ached everywhere, he really did not want to sleep; but he couldn't hold out and he fell into a fitful slumber on the thin mattress.


	3. Chapter 3

The ambulance drove Charlie to a local clinic where they worked on her for a few hours before deciding she needed more advanced medical care than they could provide. It was arranged for her to be transported to a bigger hospital in Tecates and by the next morning she was there and the doctors had performed a series of tests on their "Jane Doe" to determine the extent of her injuries. She was stripped of her blood stained clothes and changed to a hospital gown. A thorough examination of her clothing provided no clue to her identity so she remained nameless. The tests showed some minor brain swelling but nothing that overly concerned the doctors and they decided 'wait and see' was the best strategy. They placed her in a room and monitored her vitals while they waited for her to regain consciousness.

GRACELAND

Paul was awoken from his unintentional nap by the sound of voices yelling at him. He grimaced as he blearily sat up, rubbing a hand across his face and staring at the men on the other side of the bars. They instructed him to get off the bed and kneel in the center of the room. After he did what they asked, the door was slowly opened and one policeman kept his gun trained on Paul while the other walked into the cell and handcuffed him. He was yanked to his feet and shoved out of the cell towards the staircase, the whole time with the gun trained on his every move. At the top of the stairs, he was led to a small room where they pushed him into a chair alongside a scarred wooden table. On the table were an ink pad and an old fashion fingerprint card. "I am going to remove the cuffs and fingerprint you," the policeman told him. "Do not make any moves without permission or he will shoot you," he said gesturing towards the second policeman who still had his gun trained on him. After they were done fingerprinting him, they led him back to his cell where they once again left him alone.

'Now the fun really begins,' Paul thought. Once they ran his fingerprints through a crime database, they would get a match to a record for one Paul Evans, who had plenty of priors to include minor things such as disturbing the peace to more exciting charges such as possession with intent to sell and suspected homicide. These people would certainly find his rap sheet impressive and would be even more convinced he killed those people back in the cabin. Technically, he had killed those people but it was in self-defense, though he doubted anyone in this place was going to believe that once they saw his record. The only good thing was any hit on his alias would trigger an alert to the FBI and hopefully they would investigate who was accessing his record and come help him. This was designed as a safety net to allow undercover operatives to work clandestinely but still have some sort of safety net if they got arrested. Paul hoped that someone would notice the flag on his file quickly because he doubted he had a lot of time before things got ugly here in Mexico.

GRACELAND

Johnny, Mike and Paige looked up expectantly when the door to Graceland opened but their faces registered their disappointed when it was Jakes who walked into the living area.

"Wow. I feel the love," Jakes remarked heading into the kitchen for a beer before joining them.

"We love you Jakes baby," Johnny said rising from his chair, arms wide, heading over to where Jakes sat. "Give me some sugar. Let me caress those locks."

"Dreads Johnny and get away from me."

Johnny lunged in and gave Jakes' dreads a quick pat, earning him a swift retaliatory kick. Johnny hastily retreated to his seat to nurse his shin. "Told you, no messing with my hair." Jakes looked over at Paige. "Why do I get the feeling something is wrong?"

"Have you seen Paul or Charlie in the past two days?" Paige inquired.

Jakes took a sip of his beer and thought for a moment. "Can't say I have. Why?"

"Me either. Or Paige or Mikey. That isn't like them. They let us know when they are going to be gone for a few days," Johnny griped.

"Maybe something unexpected came up. What are they were working on?"

"Last I knew Charlie was still chasing Odin Rosse and Paul was looking for leads on Jangles," Mike supplied.

Jake set his beer on the table. "Maybe they found something."

"Maybe but both of their cars are gone and neither is answering their phones. Straight to voice mail," Johnny pointed out.

Jakes stood up grabbing his beer. "Hit the streets tomorrow, check with their contacts, see if anyone has seen them," and with that he headed upstairs to his room.

Mike ran a hand thru his hair. "Do you think we need to call Clarke, report them missing or something?"

Paige shook her head slowly. "If they are undercover and we start too big a search we could endanger their lives."

"Unless they are already in danger," Mike shot back.

"Jakes is right," Johnny countered. "Tomorrow we hit the streets, discretely, before we push the panic button. After all what did we learn at Hector's Mike?"

"Sometimes you have to let shit slide," Mike sarcastically answered.

"Exactly," Johnny returned ignoring Mike's tone.

Paige reached over and gave the youngest agent a small hug. "Waiting is hard Mike, but it is part of the game."

"But if they are in trouble..."

"As Paul is fond of saying, they knew what they signed up for. They are both experienced agents, they'll be alright."

Next morning all four of them hit the streets visiting people and haunts that Paul and Charlie were known to frequent. When they met back at Graceland that evening they all had come up empty.

"No one has seen them in the last few days," Paige reported. "But, maybe we should give it one more day."

Nobody really liked the idea but they all agreed anyway. They knew that tomorrow was going to be a very long day as they waited for their two misfits agents to return to the island.

GRACELAND

Silently, the officer shoved a sandwich and bottle of water in his cell then left. He called after them for news of Charlie but was blatantly ignored. Paul couldn't remember when he last ate and he was starving but after seeing what they had given him he changed his mind.

Examining the bottle of water, he noticed the seal was already broken meaning they probably had mucked with it somehow. Worst case scenario they had drugged it, best case they had replaced it with tap water which in itself would have unpleasant consequences. But he knew he had lost a lot of blood and was dehydrated so there was no real choice; he drank the water.

He decided he wasn't hungry enough to eat the sandwich and a few days of starvation weren't going to kill him unlike that sandwich which might. Within a few hours he discovered what they had done to the water and he spent a very uncomfortable night repetitively using his very un-private commode.

By morning he was so wiped out he could barely raise from his cot when instructed to do so. He stumbled to his knees so they could handcuff him, then was literally dragged up the stairs and outside into the painfully bright sunshine. His eyes watered as he tried to focus on his surroundings. They pushed him forward and he tumbled down a few stairs landing on his face in the hard packed dirt. The fall broke open the scab on his shoulder which started bleeding again.

Two men in dark suits stepped out of the sedan parked in front of the station. They walked over and dragged Paul to his knees and made him stay there while they sent one of the policemen back into the station. The officer came out a few minutes later with a piece of cloth which he tied tightly around Paul's bleeding wound.

"Don't want you bleeding all over my back seat," the one man in the dark suit explained as they hauled Paul to his feet and secured him in the back of the dark sedan. With no further dialogue, both suited men got into the car and they drove away from the station.

Paul didn't figure they would tell him anything but he had to try. "Where are we going?"

He was surprised when the man on the passenger side of the car answered him. "We are taking you to a more secure location Mr. Evans."

"You obviously know who I am. Wanna return the favor?"

"Our names aren't important."

"Well it does make it a little more difficult to have a pleasant conversation, but I guess I could refer to you as Thing One and Thing Two."

"If you'd like...Paul."

"See, now that seems so unfair. You obviously know a lot about me. So tell me one thing about yourselves like, oh I dunno, say who you work for."

"We work for a special branch of the police."

"Ah-huh. And would those two dead guys back at the cabin belong to that same 'special branch'?"

"You mean the two men you killed?"

"Hey you said that not me, but yes those men."

"They are not unknown to us."

"That is not an answer," Paul groused and the passenger merely shrugged. "Ok, how about this one. How is the lady that was at the cabin?"

"The one that was driven away in the ambulance?"

"That would be the one. She OK?" he asked trying to keep his anxiety out of his voice, but the other man picked up on it.

"She was a friend? A colleague? A lover perhaps?"

"Whatever, answer the question."

"I heard she did not make it. The medical facilities in this area are not equipped for serious accidents."

Paul was shocked into silence. Was this guy telling him the truth? Had Charlie died? He didn't know about head wounds, so maybe it was worse than he'd thought. He saw the driver covertly watching him in the rear view mirror and Paul turned his face away to try to conceal his emotions.

The rest of the ride was completed in silence and eventually they entered a fair-sized city and pulled up to a prison. Eyes downcast and without any fuss, Paul went with the agents into the building. Once inside, he was processed. He was stripped, searched and made stand there nude while some sort of medical person examined then photographed the knife wounds on his shoulder, chest, and arm. Paul would not give them the satisfaction of acting humiliated by his nakedness so he stood there defiantly staring at the wall ignoring the whole procedure. Next he was made shower, then once dried, the medic painted his wounds with what Paul assumed was a disinfectant since it stung. The wounds on his shoulder and bicep were probed some more and the medic told the guards that Paul should be brought to the infirmary later to have them stitched.

He was handed a set of clothes, and after he was dressed, was taken through a series of locked gates into a cell block where he was walked down a long hallway of cells to one with an open door. He was unceremoniously shoved inside and the door closed.

Paul looked around his surroundings which were marginally better than the last place. The sink and toilet were stainless steel, still offering no privacy, but at least they seemed cleaner. The bed was two bunks leaving Paul to wonder if he'd have a roommate. For now, he sat on the bottom one and stared out the cell bars. He could see a lot of the inmates standing by their bars examining him, the new kid on the block and his stomach did an uneasy roll; they did not look particularly friendly.

GRACELAND

Four days after she had met Rafael at the restaurant, Charlie's eyes slowly fluttered open and she heard someone in Spanish encouraging her. "That's right. You can do it." This was followed by more rapid fire Spanish which Charlie in her muddled state couldn't follow.

"English please," she muttered and the nurse switched.

"Of course. Sorry. We did not know for sure."

"Where am I?" Charlie asked reaching a hand up to feel the bandage around her head. "What happened?"

"You are in a hospital in Tecates, Mexico. As to what happen, we are hoping you can tell us."

"This bandage?"

"A gunshot wound to your temple. But not to worry there is no serious damage."

"How did I get it?"

"Again, we don't know. The police are hoping you can fill them in on what happened; that is when you have recovered a bit."

"Yeah, recovered a bit because right now I cannot remember a blessed thing."

The nurse looked at her with concern. "You don't remember what happened?"

Charlie shook her head then grimaced at the pain it caused.

"What is your name?" the nurse asked her.

Charlie thought real hard but had no answer. "I don't know," she replied her voice showing her concern.

The nurse patted her hand reassuringly. "Not to worry. This is not uncommon with head injuries. I am sure this is just temporary."

"When they brought me in, didn't I have a wallet, anything?"

"Nothing but the clothes on your back, which we had to throw away you understand. They were ruined with blood."

Charlie's eyes grew heavy and the nurse noted it. "Rest now. Your body needs it. When you wake next maybe you will feel up to talking to the police," she gestured to the officer standing at her door. But before Charlie could make a reply she was dragged under by exhaustion. The nurse quietly adjusted the sheets then left the room.

"Did she say anything?" the officer inquired.

"No. She seems to be suffering from memory loss. But don't worry. These things come and go. I am sure you can talk to her next time she wakes up which will probably be tomorrow."

GRACELAND

Day four for Paul in his new environment was the bundle of fun he'd predicted. Breakfast was a 'group' activity and was uneventful since his fellow inmates used this as an opportunity for observation and sizing up, not action. Paul gathered his tray of, well he hesitated to use the word food, and found a semi-empty table where he sat quietly. He poked at the stuff on his tray trying to determine what it was by the color; the grayish yellow stuff he was going to guess eggs, the brown, some type of refried beans; the lumpy mush with the greenish cast totally baffled him as he couldn't think of a breakfast food of that color. The coffee, one step above the dirty sock filtered brew from NA, was tolerable and appreciated.

After breakfast it was back to the cell for awhile. He was bumped a bit on his way back from breakfast and a few comments were tossed his way but he ignored everything. Once in his cell he employed some mediation techniques he had learned from Lisa. He kept a tight rein on his emotions and did not allow himself to think of her, just what she taught him. The mediation helped him push his pain to the back of his mind. A tone sounded yard time and Paul got to his feet and steeled himself for the coming ordeal; this is where they would test him.

It was hot outside and Paul would have rather stayed in his cell but that was not an option. The few patches of shade were already claimed by groups of prisoners and Paul wasn't stupid enough to think he could just go over there and join them. Instead, he found an empty bench that allowed him to put a wall to his back; one less avenue to watch.

Four guys of varying nationalities approached him soon after he sat down. He watched them come, defiantly staring at the guy he perceived as the 'lead' of the pack. Not wanting to be caught at any more of a disadvantage if a fight broke out, Briggs stood when the men were within a few feet of him.

They eyed each other before the 'leader' took a step closer to Paul. "What are you in for?" he asked.

"Same as the rest of you, nothing. I'm innocent. This is all a big mistake."

"You dissin me?" he said further invading Paul's personnel space. "Cause I'm not liking you."

"And you're not my idea of the perfect date either," Paul responded taking a step forward of his own putting them inches apart.

"Guards will go for whoever throws the first punch."

Paul cocked his arm and hit the other guy square in the jaw. "Guess that's gonna be me."

It was a three to one battle which caused Paul to quickly switch from offense to defence where he attempted to protect his shoulder and arm from taking any further punishment. The first man he punched stood off to one side, rubbing his face and offering encouragement to his compadres.

The guards, who were use to these turf fights took their sweet time in breaking up the fight and as warned, blamed Paul for the altercation. They hauled him off to solitary which suited Paul; he needed the down time to recuperate.

GRACELAND

As predicted, day four for the rest of the gang passed incredibly slowly. Every time one of their phones rang or the door to Graceland opened they expectantly looked for Charlie or Paul only to be disappointed repeatedly. That evening, after a sober meal, they met in the living area to discuss their options.

"I think it is time to panic," Johnny said aloud what they all were thinking silently. "First thing in the morning we call Clarke and report..."

"Report what?" Jake inquired.

"I dunno. That we haven't seen either of them in four days," came Johnny's frustrated replied.

"Johnny's right," Mike agreed. "There must be protocols for these types of situations."

"There you go, getting all FBI hand-bookish on us again."

"Mike's right Johnny. There are things that can be done," Paige said. "Tomorrow morning you and Mike go see Clarke. Jakes and I will continue on the streets."

The four uneasily went off for another restless night.


	4. Chapter 4

The next time Charlie woke up, she felt much better and her memory had returned, but she didn't let on to anyone. When the nurse and doctor came in to visit her, she kept her answers vague; admitting to flashes of what might be memories but definitely not the complete picture. When the police learned she was wake and coherent they pressed to interview her and were granted permission by the doctor in charge.

"Can you tell me your name?" the officer inquired.

"Cathy. Cathy Martinez. But I go by Charlie." Cathy Martinez was a back-storied alias she used.

"Good, Ms. Martinez. Can you tell me what you are doing in Mexico?"

Charlie pretended to think before letting a look of frustration cross her face. "I don't know. I don't even remember how I got here."

"Do you recall anything?"

Touching her bandaged head she said, "I think I was shot."

"Yes, you were. Do you remember who shot you?"

She shook her head no.

The policeman pulled out some photographs from an envelope he'd been holding. "Would you mind taking a look at these men, see if any look familiar." He handed her three head shots.

Charlie kept her face neutral as she scanned the photos so as not to give away anything because she definitely knew two of them, Paul Briggs and Rafael Cortes. The third man she did not recognize at all. She spent a long time scrutinizing them. "I'm sorry. They don't look familiar but I'm just not sure." She winced and raised her hand to her head as if it were causing her pain. The nurse who had walked into the room saw her. "I think you are taxing my patient. Wrap this up so she can rest."

"Should I know these men?" she asked running her fingers over the photos.

"We suspect that one of them may have been responsible for shooting you."

Charlie studied the pictures again, then shuddered and pushed them away. "Please, take them away. It is creeping me out I might be looking at the man that nearly killed me and I can't even recognize him." Charlie let a few tears well up in her eyes and that made the nurse step in.

"This ends now. You are upsetting my patient."

The cop gathered up and pictures apologizing to Charlie. "Sorry if this is upsetting. We just wanted to punish whoever did this to you as fast as possible."

"These men are still at large?" she asked pulling the sheets up around her neck.

"No need to worry. Two of them are already dead and the third is in prison. You are perfectly safe."

"Which one is in prison?"

"I'm sorry ma'am. I can't tell you that."

Before either party could say anymore, the nurse shooed the policeman out the door and ordered Charlie to rest.

After they had gone Charlie thought about what she had just learned. She wasn't 100 percent sure who was dead. She had seen Briggs throw the knife into Rafael's chest, but then Rafael produced the gun and shot her. What happened after that? Did Rafael then shoot Paul? Who was the third guy? She hadn't seen him at all. Maybe Rafael died and the third man shot Paul. Or maybe Paul killed Rafael and the third mystery man. Charlie's head was spinning trying to figure it and there was only one thing she knew for certain; she had to get out of this place, fast.

She put a quick plan together in her mind. Carefully, she stood up to see how steady she was on her feet. Other than her head, the rest of her seemed to be functioning fairly well. She was not hooked up to any monitors so moving freely was not an issue. She peered out her door and saw it was not guarded as she had feared. Now she had to figure out how to find a phone. There was none in her room, which would be too easy.

She eased out of her room into the hallway and scanned it. It seemed empty so she cautiously started down it. The floor seemed to be mainly patient rooms at first. She came to a little waiting area but there was no phone there so she kept on walking. There was a phone at the nurses' station but that was too risky and exposed.

Turning around she walked down the hall in the opposite direction. She came across a few locked doors that appeared to be doctors' offices. They probably had a phone if she could get inside. She tried a few door knobs but they were all locked. Taking a closer look at one of the locks, she was pretty sure she could open it with a card credit, but where to find one. She thought for a moment and then had an idea; a badge would work and she knew she'd seen them on the workers.

Walking back towards the nurses' station, which was still empty, she spied the next best thing; a swipe card that was left in the reader of the computer. She hastily pocketed it and headed back towards the locked doors. Choosing one at random, she used the card to jimmy the lock and it was sweet music to her ears when it clicked open. Slipping inside, she quietly shut the door behind her. The object of her desire was sitting on the desk and when she picked up the receiver, she heard a dial tone. Praying that a code was not required for long distance calls, she dialed Mike's cell. It rang four times and Charlie was about to give up when a voice answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Mike. I need your help."

"Charlie?" Mike said excitedly hearing her voice. "Where are you? We were worried. Is Briggs with you? Are you ok?"

"Whoa slow down Mike. I don't have time to explain now. I need you to drive down to Tecates Mexico..."

"Mexico?"

"Yeah and pick me up at the hospital. The border crossing opens at 0500 for passenger vehicles. Get down here ASAP. Park in the hospital lot and I'll find you."

"Why can't I come into the hospital? Are you hurt Charlie?"

"Look, I can't explain now just do what I told you. I gotta go."

"Just one more thing Charlie. Do you know where Briggs is?"

Charlie hesitated before answering. "He was with me but we got separated. I'm not sure where he is now." He may be in prison or dead, but she did not say that aloud. "Gotta go. Parking lot," and with that she hung up.

Cautiously opening the door she peered down the hallway noting the coast was still clear. She scurried back towards her room and was almost there when she remembered she still had the swipe card. She heard voices coming down the hall so she quickly dropped the card on the floor hoping someone would think they had accidently dropped it.

She made it back to her bed without being spotted and crawled under the sheets. Once she was safe in her bed, she looked at a clock and saw it was nearly midnight. She had at least 5 hours before Mike could even cross the border. She decided it was a good time to take a nap.

GRACELAND

Mike got up, took a quick shower and assembled a small pack to take along with him. He debated about waking up the rest of the crew to tell them what was going on but he hesitated. Charlie had not said if he should tell anyone, and he knew he would not have the answer to the zillions of questions they would ask, so he decided to leave a simple note that said he had heard from Charlie and he was going to go get her. He added that Briggs was with her, sort of, and he'd call them soon. He also told them not to bother calling Clarke as it looked like they had panicked for no reason. He left the note in the kitchen where he was sure they would see it and headed off in his truck for Mexico.

He arrived at the border crossing when it first opened and had no trouble getting through it. He drove until he found the hospital and then parked in the lot to wait for Charlie to contact him. He felt kind of stupid and useless but he didn't know what else to do and Charlie had been very specific about him not entering the hospital; so he waited.

GRACELAND

Charlie woke up from her nap as refreshed as she could be given the circumstances. A glance at the clock told her Mike was probably waiting for her in the parking lot. It was 0600 and the hallway was still quiet when she slipped into it again. She had to find something to wear other than this air conditioned gown; she was too conspicuous. She checked out a few doors until she found a supply closet where there were some scrubs. She slipped into a pair then headed to a nearby ladies room. Once inside, she removed the bandage from her head and artfully arranged her hair to cover the wound as best as possible. If she moved quickly and kept her head down she might succeed in getting out of the hospital undetected.

She confidently walked out of the restroom like she belonged and headed down the hall to the staircase; it was safer than being stuck in close quarters in an elevator. She made her way to the first floor then slowly eased into the lobby, studying it for potential obstacles. It looked clear so she walked behind another group leaving the hospital and soon she was outside in the early morning light. She scanned the parking lot and sure enough, there was Mike's truck parked innocently in the visitor's lot. She couldn't help herself and she circled around so she could sneak up to the truck. "Hi Mike," she said, suddenly appearing. She felt bad when Mike jumped and spilled the cup of coffee he was drinking on his pants.

"Damn Charlie."

She walked around and climbed in the passenger side. "I've been missing for 5 days and all you have to say is 'damn Charlie?'. I feel the love."

Mike looked contrite. "I am glad to see you Charlie."

"Better but you need to work on your sincerity."

"What happened to you? Are you hurt?" he asked noticing the wound on her head.

"Slow down Mikey. Let's get out of here first and then we'll compare notes. I need a hot shower and a good meal. Let's go find a safe hotel, honey. After all we are on our honeymoon down here right sweetie?"

"Whatever you say, dear," Mike replied as he started the engine.

"That's a boy Mikey," and they drove off in search of a hotel.

GRACELAND

When Paul was taken back to his cell from his overnight stay in solitary he had a surprise waiting for him, a roommate. The inmate had taken up residency on the lower bunk and looked anything but pleased when it became apparent Briggs was going to be his new roommate. He eyed Paul from head to toe as he walked into the cell.

Paul crossed his arms and leaned casually against the bars of the cell waiting for the other guy to make the first move.

"Hope you weren't particularly attached to the bottom bunk 'cause I am settled in here now," the man said belligerently. Paul simply shrugged indifferently. "And I like to have a few ground rules with my bunk mates to avoid nasty situations arising." Paul cocked his head to the side but remained silent. "Rule number one. Stay out of my way and out of my business."

"Works for me," Paul said agreeably.

"Rule number two. Don't be talking my ear off. I don't give a shit about anything you have to say."

"Talking isn't my style," Paul assured him.

The other inmate was being thrown off balance by Paul's agreeableness which was Paul's strategy.

"And I don't like to be watched when I'm using the facilities..."

"Believe me I don't want to watch..."

"And I don't cotton to any sexual funny stuff..."

"I don't swing that way," Paul replied.

His new roommate ran out of bluster. "Huh." He was puzzled where to go next with his zenned bunkmate. "My name is Fred," he finally said.

"Paul."

"This isn't my first time around the block. I know my way around these joints."

"Mmmm"

"From the looks of your face, you already made a few mistakes."

"Misunderstanding." Paul pushed off the bars, moved over to the bunks and swung himself into the top one.

Fred sat quietly for a few minutes then stood up and peered at Paul. "What you in for? Me, I'm in on a trumped up drug charge."

"I thought you didn't like talking Fred," Briggs replied staring up at the ceiling.

"We'll yeah, but we gotta know a little about each other if we are going to be sharing this cell."

Paul debated his next move in this chess game. If he was going to be stuck in this prison for any length of time, he needed to establish his rank and position or he'd spend his entire time watching his back. Fred obviously had a big mouth and probably would spread anything he was told to the entire prison community in 2.2 seconds. Paul decided to use this to his advantage. Rolling on his side and leaning up on his good arm he lowered his voice looking around fugitively before speaking. "Wanna know what I am in here for? Killing two cops. One with a knife and one with a gun. But, it was self-defense," he finished with an evil leer.

Fred took a step back from his roommate and stared at him in a whole new light. "Huh. I think you and I are gonna get along alright. You're a real bad-ass just like me. We're gonna rule this place."

Paul lay back down on his bunk. "I have no interest in ruling this place. I don't plan to be here that long. Just wanna be left alone."

"Oh yeah. Killing cops. That is golden."

"Self-defense," Paul reminded him.

"Yeah, yeah of course." But Paul could hear it in Fred's voice. He may have just created a monster. Sighing, he lay on his bunk quietly trying to meditate Fred away.

GRACELAND

After they checked into a clean, low budget hotel as husband and wife, Mike went out to get food while Charlie took a long, hot shower. She was sitting on the bed drying her hair when Mike returned with the chow and some medical supplies.

"I think we should dress that wound again Charlie. I got some stuff." Charlie allowed Mike to put a discrete dressing on the wound before they dug into the meal. When they were finished and had cleaned up the debris, Charlie brought Mike up to speed. She started back when she first met Rafael in the hotel room right up to the incident in the cabin.

"So the last thing I remember Paul put the knife in Rafael then Rafael pulled out this gun and shot me. After that…" she spread her hands and shook her head, "no idea. I woke up in a hospital in Tecates."

"So you have no idea what happened to Briggs?"

"Well, maybe. I'm not sure. When the police questioned me in the hospital, they showed me three photos. One was Paul, one was Rafael and the other I didn't recognize. The officer said two of the men were dead and one in prison but wouldn't elaborate any further. I figure Rafael probably died from the knife wound so Paul is either dead or in prison."

"Where do we go from here?" Mike asked leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair. "It not like we can go to every prison in Mexico and flash a picture of Paul and ask if they have seen him."

Charlie narrowed her eyes and a small smile crossed her face. "You're wrong Mike. We can do that and I know exactly how."

GRACELAND

Paul was amazed how fast his 'story' about what he'd done travelled around the prison. He could tell at lunch that the news that he 'killed two cops' had made it to a good number of people based on the looks and comments he received from the inmates, who overall were delighted with his actions. He could also tell that it had made it to the ears of some of the guards who were not so elated at his crimes. While his fellow prisoners were looking at him with more respect and starting to treat him like one of the gang, the guards were going out of their way to harass him.

After lunch, one of the guards showed up at his cell, cuffed him and led him out of the cell block. Paul's inquiry as to where they were going was met with stony silence.

It turned out he was taken to the infirmary where the handcuffs were taken off. He was instructed to remove his shirt and then told to lie down on the examining table where he was secured via different restraints. "Standard procedure for high risk inmates," the guard grinned as he snapped the last restraint closed.

Paul quirked an eyebrow at the guard but wisely kept his mouth shut. He knew the story he planted with Fred would have its pluses and minuses… this was definitely a minus; he felt like a frog staked to a dissection tray.

The guard left and was replaced by a different doctor than he had met when he was originally processed. This guy poked at the wound on his shoulder and bicep causing Paul to involuntarily flinch. "This should have been taken care of days ago."

"Wasn't really an option," Paul drolly commented.

"At least you're alive," the doctor muttered as he turned away from the table and that was when Paul knew he was in trouble; his tactics to survive his fellow inmates was backfiring, as he knew it would, with the prison staff.

The rest of his visit was immensely unpleasant and painful. Paul swore the guy cleaned out his wounds with sandpaper, doused it in 100 proof alcohol, then stitched it shut was a dull needle, all without any type of numbing agent. It was a good thing he was immobilized or he probably would have decked the doctor.

When the guard came back to get him, Paul felt 10 times worse than when he had arrived and the guard showed no sympathy. Once back in his cell, he fell, exhausted, into his bunk. Fred gave him an odd look but wisely made no comment and Paul drifted off into a restless slumber.


	5. Chapter 5

Charlie and Mike had called Clarke from the hotel in Tecates, Mexico and explained what had transpired. They left out a few details but the story was fairly accurate. Clarke had ordered them out of Mexico and told them to report immediately to him in person when they arrived back in LA.

While they were driving, Clarke had checked to see if anyone had looked at Paul Briggs' alias Paul Evans' records and was surprised to see it had been accessed a few times in the last week. The system was supposed to report that to him when it happened; so much for technology. The report showed what he assumed was a hit on the record by a local Mexican police office and then several from a Mexican prison. It seemed to confirm that Paul Briggs was probably in jail somewhere in Mexico.

"I don't know how this happened," Clarke remarked to Mike and Charlie sitting across from his desk in the FBI building in LA. "I am supposed to be notified immediately when that flag is raised. Anyway, I have some contacts down in Mexico and I have made some inquires, but it may take a few days to hear back from them."

"Aren't you worried since Rafael Cortes worked for the Federale and he was corrupt that there might be others? That we might be putting Paul's life at risk by alerting the authorities down there?"

"I understand your concern Charlie but rest assured, I only made a few inquiries to people I have known a long time and trust. That is why this might take longer than if I used official channels, but I think it is safer."

Charlie and Mike nodded to show they understood.

"By the way, are you guys any closer to finding Odin Rosse?"

Charlie looked Clarke straight in the eye. "No. I thought I had a solid lead but it turned out to be a bust."

"And Cortes, did he have any idea?"

"Nope. Clueless as us I'm afraid."

Clarke sighed. "Well all things in their time I suppose. If there is nothing further to discuss, I suggest you head back to Graceland and get some rest. And Charlie, get that head checked out."

"Will do Boss," she said as she and Mike rose from their chairs.

"I'll let you know the minute I hear something."

On their way out to the car, Mike glanced over at Charlie. "You have no intentions of seeing a doctor do you."

"Hell no," she replied pushing the door open to the outside.

Once they were seated in the car, Mike asked his next question. "What do you plan to tell Paige, Jakes and Johnny…about Briggs?"

Charlie rubbed her arm and stared out the window. "That is a bit tougher. There are no secrets in Graceland right?" Turning, she looked at Mike. "Did you know Briggs was a heroin addict?" Mike didn't even have to answer; Charlie saw it in his eyes. "Never mind. I can see it. You have to work on that tell Mike."

"I don't have a tell," he said defensively.

"Yeah, you do. How long have you known, about Paul? Since before I used?"

Mike hedged a bit. "About the same time."

"How did you figure out, that Paul was a user?"

"I followed him. To a NA meeting."

"You, followed Briggs?" she snorted skeptically. "Are you sure he didn't let you 'catch' him?"

Confusion registered on Mike's face. "Why?"

"Who the hell knows why Briggs does half the stuff he does. But one thing I do know, he's good… very good…and if he doesn't want you to know something…"

On the drive back to Graceland, Mike pondered what Charlie had said. Was Briggs 'confession' an attempt at misdirection; was Briggs involved in something bigger than being an addict?

Parking in front of the house, Mike shut off the engine but when Charlie started to get out, he reached over and placed a hand on her arm. "You think Briggs is involved with Odin, don't you."

Charlie shut the door and sat back on the seat. "Something like that," she replied cagily.

"You don't suppose Briggs is Odin?"

Charlie exhaled in frustration. "The possibility has crossed my mind. I mean it explains a lot Mike."

Mike thought back to the missing heroin that Juan had told him about. "Yeah, maybe more than you know." With that, Mike told Charlie the truth of how he came to Graceland and his assignment. He told her about the bureaus suspicions on Briggs to include the missing drugs.

"Damn Mike. That explains a lot and certainly backs up my theory that Briggs and Odin are one and the same. But why would he do that?"

"Revenge." Mike filled her in on the little he knew about run in with Jangles.

"So Briggs creates Odin to ultimately get to Jangles, aka, Rafael."

"One monster to get another."

Charlie laid her head back against the seat. "The implications, Mike. This has to stay between us." Mike glanced over at her. "There you go with that tell again Mike. Who already knows?"

Mike ignored the tell comment. "I told Paige I was investigating Briggs and he was a user but that is all."

Charlie thought back to Briggs comment on secrets and burdens. "For now, I say keep this between us. If anyone starts connecting the dots don't confirm or deny. Let Briggs deal with his secrets; they should be his burdens not ours." With that she got out of the truck and slammed the door resolutely behind her.

GRACELAND

Briggs had only been asleep for an hour after his visit to the doctor when another guard came up to the cell and demanded his presence. He was handcuffed again and lead out of the cell block, but this time in a different direction. Briggs could practically feel the hate radiating from the guard who was escorting him. He was taken to a small room with no windows and a lone table in the center of it. There were two normal chairs on one side of the table and a single chair, bolted to the floor, with shackles on it. Briggs was pretty sure what chair he was going to be sitting in.

The guard removed the handcuffs after he had attached the other shackles to his wrists and ankles. Briggs could only move his arms and legs a little, not enough to retaliate when the guard deliberately punched him right in his wounded shoulder before leaving the room. Paul bit back a curse and rode out the wave of pain in silence.

The same two men in the dark suits entered the room, sat in the chairs and placed a manila folder on the scarred wooden table. Paul eyed them warily.

"I am Officer Torres and this is Officer Andino. We have a few questions for you."

"Wow, names this time. I'm honored."

Torres opened the folder on the table. "Everything you say is being recorded so you need to reply to all questions verbally. Are you Paul Evans?"

"Yes."

Torres glanced down at the file. "And you are a legal resident of the United States of America?"

"Yeah."

Leaning back in his chair, Torres folded his arms across his chest. "What are you doing in Mexico, Mr. Evans?"

"At the moment I am chained to a chair being asked questions," Paul replied flippantly.

"Let me rephrase that. What brought you to Mexico?"

"Business."

"Would you like to elaborate?"

"Not really."

"Do you know there is no record of you crossing at any of the legal border checkpoints? At least not under the name of Paul Evans. Did you enter this country some other way? Or under some other name?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

Paul leaned forward in his chair as far as his chains allowed. "I was kidnapped in America by a lunatic who drugged me, stuffed me in the trunk of a car, drove me to the middle of nowhere in Mexico, carved on my like a thanksgiving turkey and then tried to kill me."

"And do you know who this man was…who kidnapped you?"

Paul remained silent.

Torres shuffled some papers in the file and pulled out three photos and laid them on the table facing Paul. The first one was Rafael Cortes, a head shot probably from his police badge. The second photo was also a head shot of the man he'd shot, again it looked like a police badge. The third was a picture of Charlie, lying on the ground, eyes shut, taken at the cabin. It was impossible to say if she was dead or alive when the photo was taken.

"What can you tell me about these people?"

Paul studied the pictures for a minute. "Nothing."

"I see. Please, Mr. Evans. Don't play games with us. I know you know these people."

Paul remained silent and deliberately looked away.

"Ok, how about this, I will tell you what I think you know. This man", he said tapping Rafael's picture, "was stabbed in the chest four times with a knife that had your fingerprints on it. Do you have anger issues Mr. Evans?"

Paul refused to rise to the bait so Torres moved on. "This man, he said tapping the next picture, "was killed by a gun with your fingerprints on it. That gun belonged to this man," he said pointing to the first man again. "Comments? No? So we move on. This attractive woman here," he said tapping the third photo, "she is attractive is she not?"

The second man in the room finally spoke. "Si, very pretty. Too bad." Paul's eyes flicked over to Andino, trying to interpret that remark.

"Too bad," Torres echoed. "Ballistics determined that her wound was made by the same gun that shot him," pointing to picture number 2, "owned by him," pointing to picture number one, "and covered with your," he pointed at Paul, "fingerprints. So what conclusion might we draw from all this? Here's one. You stabbed him," pointing to Rafael, "with the knife then took his gun and then shot this man," pointing to the second man, "with said gun and then finally her," he concluded pointing to Charlie."

"Is she dead?" Paul found himself asking. Now it was Torres turn to remain silent. Paul could read nothing from the man's face. "Answer me," he screamed trying to lunge from his chair but was stopped by the chains. He fell back, totally frustrated.

Torres let him stew for a while realizing he had found the chink in this man's armor. "I have done a lot of talking so far. Now perhaps it is your turn. You tell me something and maybe I tell you something. Let's start with this; do you have another interpretation of what might have happened in that cabin?"

Paul figured he was screwed no matter what so why not tell them the truth; it was not like they were going to believe him anyway. "Fine. You want my version. Mine comes with some names since I cannot point like you can," he said as he raised his arms to rattle his shackles. "The first guy in the picture is Rafael Cortes. International murder. Works for Caza. Likes to carve people up. Carries a large set of keys hence the nickname Jangles. And oh yeah, seems he is Policia Federale." Paul studied the faces of the men opposite him but they remained totally bland.

"So like I said before, Rafael kidnaps me and my, acquaintance, Charlie let's call her, from a motel in LA. He drugs us, stuffs us in a trunk and drives us to a cabin in the middle of nowhere Mexico."

"Outskirts of Tecates, though quite remote," Andino supplied.

"Yeah, whatever. I wake up tied to a chair with this madman slicing patterns in my chest with a knife. After he is done with his carving exhibition, he threatens to kill me and my acquaintance,"

"Charlie," Andino said.

"Charlie, then he leaves the room. I'm not going to sit there and wait to see what this creep does next so I work to free Charlie and me from the chairs. I succeed but hear him retuning so we play possum to lure him in. He approaches me with his knife and I turn the tables on him, taking the knife away. Charlie starts to run for the door and Rafael pulls out a gun. I'm in possession of the knife so I throw it at him but not before he shots Charlie. I pick the gun up and head over to check on Charlie when I hear the door open and this man, whose name I don't know, enters the room, gun drawn. I can only assume his intentions are hostile since he is with Rafael so when he points the gun at me and Charlie I shoot him."

"Without warning," Torres clarified.

"I had every reason to believe he had hostile intentions."

"But Rafael had four stab ones not one," Torres questioned.

"He shot Charlie," Paul returned matter-of-factly.

"Your acquaintance."

Paul sighed. "Very close acquaintance."

Torres cocked his head to the side. "Lover perhaps?"

"I don't kiss and tell."

"You are the one that placed the 911 call," Torres said.

"Yeah. Took the phone off of mystery man."

"You stayed behind. Didn't try to escape while you had the chance."

"Where would I go? In the middle of nowhere. Without a car. And Charlie was hurt, needed medical attention."

"So she was alive...then?" Torres questioned.

"Yeah," Paul replied, his voice breaking slightly. "At least I thought she was when they put her in the ambulance." Paul got lost in the memory, trying to remember if he'd been wrong. Had she already been dead?

"That is quite a tale," Torres said putting the photos back in the file, closing it, standing up and heading towards the door with Andino in tow.

Paul twisted as far as he could in the chair. "What about Charlie!" he yelled after them as they left the room but the door shut firmly behind them without any answer. Paul cursed at them in a combination Spanish and English until the guard came in and smashed him across the face.

"Shut up you animal."

Paul spat blood at him from his spilt lip which earned him a second beating. After Paul was subdued, the guard took him back to his cell. He staggered thru the door and clumsily climbed into his bunk, turning his back to the door. Fred, who had gotten a good look at Paul's face when he came into the door wisely chose to leave his roommate alone.

GRACELAND

A few days later the universe aligned and Clarkes' inquiries into Paul Evans whereabouts reached Torres ears from a friend of a friend. Thinking he might have found the missing link, Torres gave Clarke a call.

They played cat and mouse on the phone for a while, each trying to feel the other one out. Finally, Torres asked point blank if Paul Evans was in some sort of law enforcement. Clarke hesitated than admitted Paul was an undercover agent. Once the trust was built, the two men shared information freely.

"There is no doubt your man killed Rafael Cortes as well as Jorge Lupe, another cop. However, I do believe his story that it was self-defense. I too have been chasing Cortes, Jangles as you call him, for a long time. I suspected he might be one of our own but I was not able to prove it. And now, well it doesn't matter I guess since he is dead. And Lupe, he was a known associated of Rafael so he got what he deserved too."

"That is pretty harsh," Clarke ventured.

"That is reality, especially with these drug cartels. And I abhor a dirty cop," he said matter-of-factly.

"So where does that leave us with Paul?"

"He is currently locked up in prison as I said. I guess we let him go," Torres remarked.

"Yeah, but that will blow his cover and in his line of work that is not a good thing."

"True. And I would hazard a guess he is a good agent."

"One of the best. I have an idea. Since he is an American, what say you give him back to us to stand trial in the USA?" Clarke requested.

"He is wanted on charges in your country?"

Clarke chuckled. "I will update Paul's back-story myself. I think we'll stick with murder, of a cop. That should be reason enough for us to ask for him back. Do you think it will work?"

"I have some friends in high places too. I will make sure it happens without blowing Paul's cover," Torres assured him.

The two men went on to work out the details and when they were finished, Torres requested one last thing. "Please apologize to Mr. Evans for me implying Charlie was dead. It was the only foothold I could find. I feel rather bad because I think he is truly fond of her."

"They are partners. I'll be sure to tell him."

GRACELAND

Paul lost all interest in the world believing Charlie was dead. He may not have pulled the trigger but he had put into place every event that had led to Rafael capturing and killing her. He lay in his bunk, only leaving it when forced. His body grew gaunt and he always sported a bruise or two from the guards who hated him for killing two of their own.

It was late morning when the guard walked into his cell, cuffed him and led him out of the cell block. Paul was so worn down he didn't even care where they were taking him; a firing squad would be preferable to how he felt.

He meekly climbed into the van they took him to and allowed himself to be cuffed to the seat without any fuss. The ride was long and hot since the back of the van did not have air conditioning. He tried to lean his head against the side and meditate, but the ride was too bumpy. By the time the van stopped, he was drenched in sweat. The door opened and the bright sunshine streamed into the dim interior. A guard released him from the seat and led him out of the van where he was handed off to another guard. He was then taken over to a different van and if he'd been paying attention he would have noticed it had California plates on it. But he was too apathetic to even care and he blindly went where he was told which was into the back of the new van where he again was handcuffed to the seat.

Another long journey commenced but at least this time the van was air conditioned though the ride was still quite bumpy. Eventually, they pulled up to a prison where, after a series of checks, they drove through the three well-fortified gates. When they stopped, two new guards escorted him into the building, down a series of halls and into a small empty room. The cuffs were removed and he was left alone. Paul glanced around the room then wearily sank to the floor. When the door opened, Paul didn't either bother looking up.

"Paul," a voice called out and for an instant, he thought it sounded like Charlie. He slowly raised his head and Charlie got her first look at his battered countenance. "My god Paul. What did they do to you," she cried as she rushed across the room and crouched in front of him.

Paul blinked to clear his eyes, not believing what he was seeing. Charlie reached out and gently stroked his cheek and Paul leaned into her touch.

"You're not dead," he croaked. "They told me you were dead."

She carefully held his head between her hands and looked him straight in the eye. "They lied. I'm fine."

He blinked at her stupidly before leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. "What are you doing in Mexico, Charlie?"

"We're not in Mexico. You are back in California. Let's get out of here and I'll tell you all about it."

Dazed and still not fully comprehending what was going on, Paul struggled to his feet and with some assistance from Charlie, left the room. Charlie led him down a hall that eventually came to an outside door where Mike was waiting for them with a car.

"Mikey," Paul croaked with a small smile.

"Good to have you back. Some vacation huh," he joked.

Paul started to sway and Mike put a supporting hand on his housemate and he and Charlie helped Briggs in the backseat of the car. Charlie climbed in beside him and Mike drove. They cleared all the gates and headed for the freeway.

"Where we going?" Paul asked after a few moments.

"Home," Mike replied.

A bit of the old Paul surfaced. "Don't lie Mike."

"We're going home... eventually... after you get checked out," he added awkwardly.

"If by checked out you mean a hospital you can stop right now. I am not going."

"But Paul, you look like hell," Charlie tried to reason with him.

"Nothing a hot shower, food and sleep won't resolve. Trust me I have suffered worse. Take me home."

Mike glanced in the rear view mirror at Charlie who nodded in agreement.

"Ok Paul. Graceland it is."

"Thanks," he said as he let his head fall wearily back against the seat. He didn't intend to, but he slept for the rest of the journey back to Graceland.

When he walked in the door, or more accurately was assisted thru the door, his remaining housemates greeted him enthusiastically, but after seeing the state he was in, quickly allowed him to go upstairs to his room.

He knew he really should take a shower, but he made the mistake of sitting on the bed which became laying, which turned to sleeping. Charlie covered him up as Paige watched from the door. "You know he is going to have to burn those sheets after sleeping in them like that," Paige remarked.

"Small price to pay," Charlie replied.

Closing the door behind them, the girls walked downstairs. "Guess you have a lot to talk about, when he recovers," Paige said.

"Yeah, I'm trying not to think about that yet. I'm just happy he's alive...so I can kill him myself," she half-joked.

There was a lot that she, and the whole house, was going to need to discuss with Briggs. Charlie had no idea what the future held for Briggs but for now she was just going to focus on the fact he was safe was enough to start.

The End


End file.
